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“Well, what do you think?” he asked, standing a few feet behind me.
I walked to the floor to ceiling window that led to a small balcony before turning around. “Well, obviously I’m used to some pretty high standards, but I suppose this will do,” I said, and he laughed.
“Goof.” He dropped his keys on the coffee table. “You can take the bedroom. It’s just through there. I have to leave in a couple hours anyway, so I think I’ll just power through and sleep on the plane.”
My smile fell and my chest squeezed. I hated that he had to leave so soon. I felt like I was just getting to know someone hugely important and now he was disappearing. I made a concerted effort not to let how crestfallen I felt show on my face.
“So, you never did explain to me how you’re managing to catch a flight on Christmas day.”
A faint smile touched his lips, his eyes seeming to twinkle with mischief, and he muttered, “You really don’t know who I am.”
I frowned at him. “Should I?”
He rubbed his jaw, letting out a small sigh. “No, I guess not. Not unless you’re in the music industry.”
My interest piqued. He worked in the music industry? I wanted to ask a million questions, but confusion kept my mouth shut. Plus, did it matter? I’d probably never see him again after tonight. We only had a few more hours and I didn’t want him to think I was only interested in him for his job, whatever it was.
A few seconds of quiet elapsed as we gazed at one another. It was weird, like we both liked looking at each other too much to admit how equally awkward it was standing here trading stares.
Once more, I entertained the idea of having sex with him. After all, I was beyond attracted to him and we had great chemistry. The sex would probably be fantastic. But something in me said no. The time didn’t feel right, which was absurd. If I never saw him again, now was the time!
But . . .
I’d only be lonelier if we had amazing sex and then he had to leave right after.
“Can I make a request?” he asked then, his low voice breaking the quiet.
I eyed him curiously. “What kind of request?”
“Sing for me.”
I looked around. “Sing? Here?”
“Sure,” he nodded.
Self-awareness pricked at me. It was one thing for him to hear me sing in a darkened pub. Alone in a brightly lit apartment was another thing entirely. But then, he’d done something truly kind by letting me stay here and if all I could give him in return was a song then so be it.
“Um, all right. What should I sing?”
“One of your grandmother’s songs. Like the one you sang at the pub.”
I took a deep breath and meandered over to the window, no destination in mind, my back turned to hi
m. I definitely couldn’t sing and make eye contact. That would be way too intense.
The apartment was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I felt Broderick’s undivided attention on me. I closed my eyes and sang quietly, the first few lines of ‘The Foggy Dew.’ Then, as I got further into the song my voice grew louder, filling the space. I forgot about my audience of one and allowed myself to be swept away in the story, in a time gone by when men fought passionately for their country, men who were dead and gone but whose bravery lived on in the music that was passed down from generation to generation.
When the song ended and I fell quiet, a chill shuddered through me. I didn’t immediately turn around. The tension in the room was too thick. Tonight had been a rollercoaster of emotions and again I was on the verge of tears. It was a combination of the song, missing Gran, the strange, sudden connection I felt to Broderick, his selfless gesture, and the fact that he was leaving in a few short hours.
“That was incredible,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice rough. But I heard the awe in his tone and turned around. His eyes shone, and I wondered if he was feeling just as mixed up as I was right now.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and he gestured to the space beside him. “Come here.”
I took a few tentative steps toward him and sat, my heart in my throat and my stomach twisting.
Fantastic sex, Ophelia! Come on!!
When he held his arm out, a warm smile on his lips and behind his eyes, it felt natural to lean into him and rest my head on his chest. I closed my eyes once more, listening to the sound of his breaths, his steady, reassuring heartbeat, and somehow—while still arguing with myself whether or not to give into temptation—I drifted off to sleep.
